


The Prodigal

by ShayneyL



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Episode: s06e16 Collective, Episode: s06e26 Unimatrix Zero, Fluff, Infidelity, M/M, Smut, Suicide Attempt, The Borg, background Seven of Nine/Axum, background Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShayneyL/pseuds/ShayneyL
Summary: Harry Kim no longer has any memory of his life onVoyager.  Can Tom Paris get him to remember?
Relationships: Harry Kim/Tom Paris
Comments: 16
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Blame this one on the VOY fans of Tumblr, who circulated a link to the [Trek Prompt Generator](http://www.generatorland.com/usergenerator.aspx?id=13825) awhile back. The prompt I got was _Gigantic assimilated ensign angst_. 
> 
> Tempting as it was to write about a gigantic ensign, someone's already done B'Elanna in _Attack of the 50' Woman_ , so I decided it had to be gigantic angst, not a gigantic ensign. (Though it's not actually _that_ angsty.)
> 
> Chapter 5 has the smut. You can skip it if that's not your thing. Or skip everything else, if the smut is what you're here for. ;-)

_We'll see you soon, Harry._

_What did she mean by that?_

* * *

"I am detecting a vessel on an intercept course," Seven said from Ops. She paused, examining her readouts. "It is Borg." 

"Red alert," the captain ordered. "All hands, battle stations."

Tom looked expectantly at the viewscreen, hands poised over his panel, ready to move _Voyager_ any way the captain ordered. He hoped it was only one cube this time, but if it wasn't, he had some evasive maneuvers worked out...

It wasn't a cube. It was much smaller. 

"A single scout vessel," Tuvok reported. 

"Maximum range on sensors, Seven," Janeway ordered. Obviously, she thought this might be a trap, and Tom agreed.

"We're being hailed, Captain," Seven reported. 

"On screen."

The scout vessel disappeared. In its place was a Borg drone. Only he didn't act like one. He was smiling slightly. Instead of the usual threat of assimilation, he said, "Greetings, Captain Janeway."

A startled cry came from Ops. "Axum!"

"I told you I would find you, Annika," the drone said. He was gazing at Seven, a very un-Borg-like look on his face. 

"Axum," Janeway said. "You're Axum, of Unimatrix Zero."

He nodded, reluctantly pulling his gaze from Seven. "I have escaped from the Borg, because of what you did. Thank you."

"It was our pleasure," the captain replied. "Are you alone on your vessel?"

"No," Axum replied. "I brought a drone with me. A present for you, you could say. Call it thanks for your help."

"We're not in the habit of taking prisoners, Mr. Axum," Janeway said, a bit taken aback. 

"I think you'll want this one," Axum said. He gestured to someone off-screen. "Third of Eleven, you will comply," he ordered, and someone stepped forward. It didn't look like a Borg drone. It looked like....

"Harry!" Tom gasped. 

It was Harry Kim. He was wearing the black armor favored by the Borg, and his hair was longer than was customary in Starfleet, but he looked human, not Borg. Harry, who had left _Voyager_ almost a year ago, and hadn't been seen since. Until now.

"Harry, where the hell have you been!" Tom knew it wasn't his place to speak, but he couldn't help it. Harry had disappeared from _Voyager_ , taking a shuttle with him. They had searched for him as long as they could, but with a heavy Borg presence and no sign of their missing crew member, they eventually had to give up and leave him behind. 

Harry just stared, expressionless. 

"What happened to him?" Captain Janeway asked. 

"He was assimilated," Axum said. "He doesn't have the genetic mutation Annika and I share, so the virus did not affect him. But you freed Annika and other drones. You can free Third of Eleven, too."

"How did you find us?" Janeway asked. "I thought you were in the Beta Quadrant."

"My vessel was. The Borg are aware of your general location, through Annika's neurotransceiver. I stole this scout vessel and traveled through a transwarp corridor."

"Were you followed?"

"Not so far as I know. We are now many light years from the terminus of the transwarp corridor, but I recommend not lingering here. Just in case."

Janeway exchanged looks with Chakotay and Tuvok, then came to a decision. "Mr. Axum, prepare to dock. Seven, open the hangar bay doors."

"Captain..." Tuvok said.

"I know. Prepare a security team." She looked around the bridge. "Seven, Tom, you're with me. Chakotay, tell the Doctor to prepare to receive two patients." 

Tom wasted no time jumping up and heading to the turbolift. Tuvok came along as well, inviting himself as he often did when he felt there were security issues.

"It could be a trap," Tuvok said as the lift doors closed. 

Janeway nodded. "That's why we're still at red alert."

"It is Axum," Seven said. "He does not appear as he did in Unimatrix Zero, but I recognize him nonetheless."

"Careful, Seven," Janeway said. "We don't know he's truly free of the Borg. Or he could be a hologram or other illusion."

Tom brooded on that. If this wasn't really Harry...he wasn't sure if he could take it. He'd only just started to adjust to his best friend being gone forever. He couldn't stand to lose him again. He really couldn't. 

They reached the docking bay, and stood outside, waiting for it to pressurize. Finally, the light turned green and the doors slid open. 

The hatch of the scout vessel rose. "Comply," they heard Axum's voice insisting, and Harry stepped out. He didn't look particularly happy to be back on _Voyager_. Axum followed. "Annika," he said, and Seven surged into his arms, to Tuvok's dismay. 

Screw it. Tom stepped forward and took Harry into his arms. Harry, who he'd thought was lost forever. "Welcome back, buddy." 

Harry didn't return the embrace. He tolerated it for a moment, then began to struggle. Tom let him go. Harry just looked at him, as if they were total strangers.

Which they probably were, from Harry's point of view.

"So, I guess you're Borg now," Tom said. Just to say something, anything.

"No," Harry said. "I have been severed from the Collective." There was just a tinge of sadness in his voice. Which sounded purely human, not Borg at all.

"You don't look Borg," Janeway observed.

Seven and Axum finally parted, and Axum spared a glance at the captain. "Third of Eleven is an experimental drone. From Unimatrix X-2."

"Harry," Janeway said. "His name is Harry."

"Harry," Axum said. "I'm sorry, I did not know his previous identity. Third of Eleven is the only designation he remembers at the moment." 

"Well, maybe we can fix that. Let's get you both to sickbay."

* * *

Harry and Axum lay on biobeds. Axum voluntarily, Harry less so. They'd had to force him down and restrain him. 

Seven stood beside Axum's bed, holding his hand. Tom resisted the urge to take Harry's hand. His one-time friend would clearly not welcome his touch as Axum welcomed Seven's.

"I can remove many of Mr. Axum's implants," the Doctor said, looking at his tricorder. "As I did with Seven. Mr. Kim has no implants to remove. He has no cortical node, no recognizable neurotransceiver. His connection the Collective was apparently biological — perhaps through telepathy, as Commander Chakotay once encountered."

"Why doesn't Harry remember us?" Janeway asked. "The other drones we have encountered who were assimilated as adults remembered who they were as soon as their connections to the Collective were cut."

"Perhaps because he is an experimental drone," Axum said. "He's different from the rest of us." He hesitated. "I think he was intended to be a covert operative. They did not want any of his unimatrix to be identifiably Borg."

"Are you sure his connection to the Collective is gone?" Janeway asked. "If he doesn't have a neurotransceiver, how can you know if..."

"It's gone," Axum said. "The Collective has discarded him." 

"Why would they do that?" Janeway asked. 

"As far as I could tell...it's because he is only a prototype, and has significant flaws," Axum said. "That's why I left when I did. I was planning to escape anyway, but when I found out he was scheduled for deactivation, I accelerated my timetable. I thought you might want him back. I know Annika considered him a friend."

"Harry...what happened?" the captain asked. "How were you assimilated by the Borg? Why did you leave _Voyager_?" 

Harry was silent for a long moment. Tom thought he was refusing to answer. Then he said, "I was injected with nanoprobes by immature drones. The assimilation appeared to be a failure. But the Queen was able to activate the nanoprobes in my bloodstream later."

"God." Tom remembered that incident. The away mission that resulted in Icheb joining the crew. Harry had suffered some serious injuries, including partial assimilation. "I'm so sorry." 

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I should have protected you. I should have detected those nanoprobes afterwards."

"Tom, you weren't in command of that mission," Janeway said. "And you're not a doctor." 

"Mr. Kim's situation is unusual," the Doctor protested. "He has a significant number of nanoprobes in his body, due to my adaption of Borg nanoprobes to heal him after his encounter with Species 8472..."

Janeway raised a hand, cutting off the Doctor's objection. "That wasn't a criticism, Doctor. As far as I'm concerned, you all performed admirably. But...it appears Borg nanoprobes are harder to detect than we realized. Make sure he's not going to assimilate us."

The Doctor nodded, and picked up his scanner again.

"Captain," Seven said. "Do not trust him."

"We trusted you," Janeway pointed out. 

"And your trust was misplaced," Seven replied. "I tried to return to the Borg, and harmed the crew in my efforts."

"But it worked out," Janeway said. "We'll be careful, of course, but I'm willing to give Harry the same chance we gave you. It's the least we owe him." She turned to Harry. "So," she said. "You can't return to the Borg. But you have a choice. I can put you in the brig. Or you can give me your word that you will not do anything to harm _Voyager_ or her crew, and I will issue you crew quarters instead."

Tuvok was not pleased at this. Janeway quelled him with a look before he could voice his objections.

Harry was defiant. He didn't answer, but his fighting against the restraints was answer enough. 

"Very well," Janeway said. "Tuvok, escort Mr. Kim to the brig."

Tom had been afraid they would have to drag Harry kicking and screaming to his cell, but he put up minimal resistance, glaring at them all as he left with Tuvok.

"Captain—" Tom said.

"I know," Janeway replied. "He'll come around, just like Seven did."

Tom wasn't so sure about that. Harry could be remarkably stubborn. 

Janeway continued. "Tom, you were his closest friend on board. No visiting restrictions. Talk to him whenever you want. If anyone can get through to him, you can." 

Tom nodded, accepting the assignment. If there was any chance of getting Harry back...the Harry he knew...he would do anything.

* * *

"I don't trust him," B'Elanna said, around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. She was, as usual, eating as fast as possible so she could get down to Engineering. 

Breakfast wasn't bad this morning. It had taken Tom awhile to get used to the Talaxian spices Neelix used, but scrambled eggs a la Neelix had grown on him over the years. "Come on, B'Elanna. He used to be your best friend not named Chakotay." 

"But now he's Borg." She speared a small, round purple thing — the Talaxian equivalent of home fries — and waved it around with her fork. "Not just Borg, but a new kind of Borg we know nothing about."

B'Elanna was not exactly the trusting type. It had taken Tom a long time to get past her defenses. And she and Seven still didn't exactly have a friendly relationship, though he thought there was respect between them now, if little affection. Really, he was surprised that she and Harry had bonded so quickly, back in the early days of this mission. Or maybe not. Something about Harry made people like him, trust him, want to protect him. Even an angry, suspicious half-Klingon. He had been so vulnerable, and so innocent back then.

But that was then. So much had changed over the past six years. "I can't give up on him," Tom said.

"I know," B'Elanna said. "But I don't want to see your heart broken again. Just...be careful, Tom."

"I will be," Tom promised. 


	2. Chapter 2

Harry was pacing his cell like a caged animal. It was something Tom recognized. Harry tended to pace when he was preoccupied. 

"Let me in," Tom said to Ayala, who was on guard this shift. 

"Stand back," Ayala said to Harry, who didn't obey, though he did stop pacing. Ayala lowered the force field anyway, and Tom stepped inside. The force field went up behind him; Harry did not try to escape.

"Hi, Harry," Tom said. "How's it going?"

"My designation is Third of Eleven, Experimental Project 158, Unimatrix X-2."

Tom considered for a moment. Ordinarily, he was in favor of letting people use any names they wanted. Seven had chosen to keep using her Borg designation, even after they discovered her human name. But his goal was to get Harry to remember the person he used to be, and letting him continue to use a Borg designation seemed counter to that. 

"No," he said. "Your name is Harry Kim. I always called you Harry, and I'm going to keep doing it."

"We were in the same collective?" Harry asked.

"You could say that. We were friends, Harry. Very close friends." He put an arm around Harry's shoulders, like he used to in the old days, and guided him to sit down on the cell's bench. Harry allowed it. He was a strange mix of compliance and defiance, Tom had noticed.

"Harry...I was devastated when you...left. We searched for you for weeks. Much longer than we should have. You were probably thousands of light years away by then, but we didn't know where else to search for you, so we stayed. Until it became just too dangerous." 

"Why?" Harry asked. "Were my skills that unique?"

"Your skills were valued, but we would have looked for you anyway. The captain doesn't like leaving anyone behind. And I didn't want to leave you behind." That was an understatement. Tom had gone a little crazy when the captain had decided it was time to move on.

"I no longer remember the skills I used to have."

"You will," Tom said. "And even if you don't, it's all right."

"I want to return to the Borg."

"What? Harry, you don't belong with them."

"I don't belong here."

"Yes, you do. Give us a chance, why don't you?"

Harry didn't reply, and didn't meet Tom's gaze. 

"Look, Harry. You can't go back to the Borg. You heard what Axum said. You were scheduled for deactivation. They don't want you any more. They'd kill you if you went back."

Harry slumped visibly. 

"You have a place with here on _Voyager,_ " Tom said. "If you want it."

Harry didn't answer. 

* * *

The security detail was used to Tom's visits by now. They lowered the force field as soon he entered. 

"Here," Tom said, handing the cup he was holding to Harry. It was his daily nutritional shake, brought from sickbay, where Tom had just gotten off shift. 

Harry didn't take it. Tom didn't blame him. It probably tasted terrible. But the Doctor wanted to transition Harry gradually to normal food, and that meant liquid nutritional supplements, at least for now.

"Drink it, Harry, or I'll have to take you to sickbay where the Doctor will force-feed you."

Harry took the cup, and drank down the nutritional supplement in one long swig.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Tom asked. The Doctor claimed Harry was getting all the nutrients he needed, but Tom had a hard time believing that. He was really tempted to bring Harry some real food — maybe some pizza, or a hamburger and fries — but the Doctor had warned him very strongly that Harry wasn't ready for that yet. 

Harry didn't seem to understand the question, and didn't answer it. 

"Look, Har," Tom said. "Aren't you tired of sitting in this cell all day? The captain will let you out. You just have to agree to her terms. Why are you being so stubborn? You aren't still hoping to return to the Borg, are you?"

"Returning to the Borg is impossible," Harry said. "They would deactivate me."

"Then why not agree to the captain's terms?"

"It's irrelevant. It would just be a larger prison."

"No," Tom said, appalled. "It wouldn't be like that at all. If nothing else, it will be less boring than this cell. Why not try it?"

Harry didn't respond.

"Think about it," Tom said. "I have to go." 

* * *

Tom signaled at the ready room door, and entered when it slid open. Janeway was sitting on her couch, going over some padds with Chakotay. 

"What can I do for you, Tom?" she asked, barely looking up.

"I want to request crew quarters for Harry."

That piqued her interest. "Has he agreed to my terms?"

"Not exactly," Tom admitted. 

"Tom..."

"I think he will soon," Tom said hurriedly. "I'm getting to him."

Janeway and Chakotay looked at each other. 

"Come on, Captain," Tom coaxed. "You can't keep him in the brig for the next 40 years."

"All right," Janeway said. "We'll assign him quarters and let you requisition furniture."

Chakotay got up to check the computer on the captain's desk. "Harry's former quarters are currently occupied by Ensign Gilmore," he said. "I can ask her to move if you think it's important." Marla had been reinstated to her previous rank after earning the Captain's trust, as had the rest of the former _Equinox_ crew, and had been given officer's quarters. 

"No need for that," Tom decided. "How about assigning him the quarters next to mine?" They had belonged to Lt. Hogan. No one had lived in them since his death. 

"All right. Deck 4, section 3-C it is," Chakotay agreed.

* * *

Tom didn't make his usual visit to Harry's cell the next day. Instead, he spent the time setting up Harry's new quarters. He wanted to give Harry some time to think it over. And to realize how boring it would be in his cell, if no one came to visit him.

Tom went back to the brig the next evening. If Harry had missed him, he didn't show any sign of it. He was sitting on his bench, and didn't acknowledge Tom when he entered.

"Well, have you thought about it?" Tom said, after Ayala had let him in. 

Harry finally met Tom's eyes. Was there a hint of uncertainty there?

"Just for now," Tom said. "If you find out you prefer to be in the brig, all you have to do is violate the rules the captain has set for you and you'll be back here." Tom knew that from personal experience. "What do you have to lose by trying the alternative?"

Harry considered silently for a long moment. 

"Harry?"

He looked up, and finally spoke. "I will comply."

"Great! Let me call the captain." 

Janeway came down to the brig almost immediately. Accompanied by Tuvok, of course. "Tom said you have agreed to abide by my terms," she said.

"Yes, Captain." 

"You will not do anything to harm _Voyager_ or her crew. You must obey any commands given by the crew. In return, you will have the same rights the rest of the crew has."

Harry thought about that, then said, "I accept the terms."

The first stop was sickbay, of course. The captain wanted to make sure Harry was healthy before turning him loose among the crew. Not that there was any reason to believe he wasn't. Harry, true to his word, didn't have to be wrestled onto a biobed this time. He lay down obediently when asked.

"Little change from his initial exam," was the Doctor's verdict. "The normal human reflexes and responses are somewhat lacking. But I have reason to believe they will eventually re-emerge."

"How?" Tom asked. 

"You know, you might be the ideal candidate for this job," the Doctor said. "Just encourage him to pay more attention to his nerve endings. Encourage him to experience human sensations. A hedonist like yourself should be an expert."

Tom bridled, offended, then reconsidered. "If there's holodeck time and replicator rations involved, can I charge them to the sickbay account?"

"Within reason, Mr. Paris. As long as it's for Mr. Kim's benefit, not your own." 

All the officers' quarters looked alike, so Tom didn't think it would matter to Harry if he was on Deck 6 or Deck 4. And it would be convenient to have him right next door. He'd requisitioned furniture and arranged it the way Harry used to have it. He also had a connecting door installed between their quarters. 

He showed Harry how it worked. "See, it only opens if we both have it set to unlocked." 

Harry nodded. He was quiet, and seemed a little overwhelmed by it all.

"It's late," Tom said. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Harry."

* * *

"Torres to Paris." 

Tom ignored the voice coming from the combadge on his night table. 

"Tom, wake up," B'Elanna said. "Tom!"

"What is it?" Tom finally replied. He looked at the chronometer. "It's 2 am!" He fuzzily remembered that B'Elanna was on gamma shift this week. 

"Yes, it's 2 am. And your best friend is down here in Engineering. Naked."

This was too much to handle at 2 am, when he was mostly still asleep. "Harry?" he finally guessed. "Harry's wandering around naked?"

"El starko," B'Elanna said. She added, "And he's not bad. If you don't get down here fast, I might dump you for him."

He knew she was teasing, but a surge of jealousy propelled him out of bed. "Be down in a minute." He hastily dressed, grabbed a blanket off the bed, and headed to Engineering.

"He's in my office," B'Elanna said when he arrived. Which didn't do a lot of good, because the walls of her office were transparent. Engineers hated to have the warp core out of view.

Sure enough, Harry was in the small office, looking around curiously. Naked as the day he was born. Tom charged in, putting the blanket around him. "Harry, you can't walk around the ship without clothing." 

Harry obediently wrapped the blanket around himself. He gave Tom a quizzical look. "Five of...Axum and Seven of Nine instructed me not to wear Borg armor. I am no longer Borg."

"Good advice. But that doesn't mean you can walk around naked."

"I don't have anything else to wear."

Tom stared for a moment, mouth hanging open. Of course. He should have realized. "Harry...I'll take care of that. But if it comes down to it, wearing anything, even Borg armor, is preferable to walking around naked. Unless it's an emergency, you can't leave your quarters without clothing."

"I understand and will comply." 

"Good. Come with me."

He took Harry to the cargo bay, and found the two containers with Harry's name on them. "I should have done this sooner." He handed Harry one, and took other himself. They headed to Harry's quarters.

"These are your belongings," Tom explained. "Tuvok wanted to recycle them, but I wouldn't let him."

"You knew I would return?" Harry asked. 

"I hoped you would," Tom admitted. "It took me a long time to give up that hope. And even if you didn't...I knew your family would want your things."

By now they were in Harry's quarters. Tom opened up the containers. "Why would my family want this?" Harry asked, picking up a gold and black uniform. "Don't they have sufficient clothing of their own?"

"As mementos, Harry. They would treasure your possessions, as a way to be close to you."

Harry said nothing, but from the look on his face, he didn't understand. 

Tom sighed, and changed the subject. "You still have a Starfleet commission. You are entitled to wear these uniforms, and your rank insignia. There are also civilian clothes if you prefer."

Harry had found something else in the second container. His clarinet case. Tom showed him how to open it; he stared at the disassembled instrument as if he'd never seen one before. "You play the clarinet," Tom said. "You're pretty good."

There was no recognition on Harry's face. Tom made a mental note to dig up a recording of one of Harry's concerts and play it for him. "It's late," he said. "I'm going to bed, and you should, too. Don't leave your quarters unless you are dressed. Shirt, pants, and shoes. Underwear recommended, but not mandatory. Good night." He left Harry to his unpacking, and went to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom brought Harry to breakfast with B'Elanna the next morning. She shot Tom a look; he knew she wasn't happy at Harry sharing the table with them. 

Breakfast today was some odd casserole with grub meal and leola root. B'Elanna was eating it, but Tom opted for a replicated bowl of cereal instead. Harry, as usual, got a nutritional shake.

B'Elanna eyed Tom's cereal with distaste. "It might as well be candy," she said.

"Yup," Tom said, happily digging in. He'd discovered 20th century children's cereals from the commercials in the programming on the TV B'Elanna had made him, and had gotten quite fond of them. 

Harry looked at Tom, hesitant. Tom nodded.

"Lt. Torres," Harry said. "I wish to apologize. Leaving my quarters without clothing was incorrect. I didn't mean to cause offense."

B'Elanna scowled. "Just don't do it again," she said. "In fact, just stay out of Engineering, period."

"I will comply."

"B'Elanna," Tom protested. He thought of all the hours Harry had spent with B'Elanna down in Engineering. He couldn't believe she was going to ban him. 

"I'm late for my shift," B'Elanna said. She wasn't, but Tom let her go. If there was one thing he'd learned about B'Elanna over the years, it was to pick his battles. 

Tom spooned up the last of his cereal, then picked up the bowl and drank the sweetened milk out of it. "I'm due on the bridge," he told Harry. "Study the technical manuals I gave you, and I'll see you tonight."

* * *

"This is you, performing on talent night two years ago," Tom said, as clarinet music played from the room's sound system. He propped his feet up on Harry's coffee table, as he used to do, before. He'd finished unpacking Harry's belongings, putting them in the same places Harry had had them, near as Tom could remember. He'd even brought back the bonsai Harry had kept on his table. And the orchid Tuvok had given Harry. Of course they hadn't been stored in the cargo bay. He'd kept them himself. 

Harry wandered around the room, looking at his possessions, without any apparent memory of them. Eventually, he came and sat beside Tom on the couch. 

Tom placed an arm around Harry's shoulders, a gesture that had been common between them. Harry looked at Tom in puzzlement. He was very tense under Tom's touch.

"Relax, Harry," Tom said, rubbing his one-time friend's back. "It's not an attack." 

"What is the purpose of this?"

"The Doctor wants you to pay more attention to sensations like touch, taste, sound," Tom said.

Harry considered that. "It is...not unpleasant," he conceded. 

He should take Harry to the holodeck and fire up the resort program. Judging from the tension in Harry's back, he would benefit from the resort masseuses. But he didn't think Harry was ready for that just yet.

"What do you think of the music?" he asked.

"It is pleasing. But I don't remember creating it."

"It's all right," Tom said. "You will." 

He stroked Harry's hair, which was getting pretty long. He rather liked it, but it was way longer than was customary for a human male in Starfleet. "You should go see Jenny Delaney. She's pretty good at cutting hair. She always gave you a discount, because she liked you."

Harry turned to look at him, causing Tom's fingers to stroke against side of his neck. Harry jerked away, startled.

"Harry...are you ticklish?" 

Harry didn't answer, but when Tom tickled the side of his neck, he jerked away again, looking as annoyed as a cat stroked the wrong way. 

"Sorry," Tom said, grinning. He'd never known Harry was ticklish. 

Harry did not appear happy at the discovery. He was looking at Tom suspiciously, edging away. 

"Oh, come on, Harry," Tom said, putting an arm around him and pulling him close. "Relax. I won't tickle you any more. Much." He tickled the other side of Harry's neck, making Harry jerk away again.

"Stop that," he said. "It's uncomfortable."

"Sorry," Tom said. "I couldn't resist." He put his arm around Harry's shoulders again. They sat and listened to the music.

* * *

"Delaney to sickbay."

"Paris here, go ahead." Tom was in charge of sickbay while the Doctor used his holodeck time. He wasn't sure whether it was Megan or Jenny making the call. He still couldn't tell them apart. Especially over the com.

"Tom, I found Harry lying on the floor in the corridor. I'm not sure what's wrong. I'm beaming him to sickbay."

"Okay, thanks...Jenny," Tom guessed.

"I'm Megan," she replied, as Harry appeared on the biobed in the surgical bay.

"Megan. Sorry. I've got him." He closed the com line, and went over to examine Harry. 

He thought about calling the Doctor, but he'd be annoyed to be disturbed if this wasn't an emergency. And it didn't look like one. Near as Tom could tell from the medical tricorder readings, Harry was just asleep. Very deeply asleep. 

He shook Harry's shoulder. Harry stirred, but did not awake. Tom shook him harder. Finally the dark eyes opened. "What...why am I in sickbay?"

"You tell me," Tom said. "Megan Delaney found you lying in the corridor and beamed you here." He looked at the readings again. "When was the last time you slept?" Harry didn't seem to understand the question. "Regenerated?" Tom said, using the Borg term. 

"I don't remember," Harry said. "It wasn't something I had to keep track of before." 

Tom sighed, rubbing his neck. He hadn't really thought about it, but of course the Collective had determined every aspect of each drone's daily schedule. "Harry, you need regular sleep. You can't just keep going until you fall asleep where you stand. People will think you're...malfunctioning, and beam you to sickbay. It worries people, and it's a waste of energy."

"How often must I regenerate?"

"Sleep, Harry. You have no implants. You don't regenerate, you sleep. Try eight hours a night. Look, I'll make a schedule for you." Amazing that it had come to this. Before, Tom had always been the one trying to get Harry to stay out late, break the rules. But this Harry apparently didn't have the sense to come in out of the rain. If it ever rained on _Voyager_. Which it didn't. "Go back to your quarters and go to bed, Harry. Sleep until you wake up naturally. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

* * *

Harry lay on the biobed, dressed in sickbay scrubs. Tom ran a thumbnail up Harry's bare foot. Harry's toes curled — a normal reaction, when there had been no response last time. 

Tom couldn't resist. He tickled the sole of Harry's foot, making Harry pull away, glaring.

"Please don't tickle the patients, Mr. Paris," the Doctor said, nearly rolling his holographic eyes. "Though it's good to see his sensitivity demonstrated." He turned to Harry. "Mr. Kim, your reflexes are much closer to normal than they were the last time I examined you. Still somewhat muted, but you're doing very well. You may get dressed. I'll see you again next week. Mr. Paris, whatever you're doing, keep doing it. It's working."

* * *

Tom wanted to talk to Seven about Harry. She might have some advice on the perils and pitfalls of leaving the Collective. But she was hard to find these days. According to the grapevine, she and Axum were spending all their spare time together. They were like a couple of teenagers. Which, in a way, they were, despite their chronological ages.

Finally, Tom decided he had catch her on duty. She had taken over most of Harry's Ops shifts after he'd left, but Tom didn't want to have such a personal discussion on the bridge. He checked the duty roster, finding a time when he was off-duty but she was scheduled for Astrometrics. 

"Hi, Seven." 

She was standing at the main console, as usual. "Do you require assistance, Lt. Paris?"

"You could say that."

She looked at him, curious.

"It's about Harry," Tom explained. "I thought you might have some advice on how to help him adapt to leaving the Collective. Maybe you could even talk to him."

"I spoke to him on several occasions while he was in the brig, as did Axum," she said. "I think it would be unwise for us to socialize further at this time. I have told Icheb to avoid him as well."

"Why?" Tom said, surprised. "You used to be friends."

"He needs to forget the Collective."

"You didn't avoid Icheb or...other Borg when they came aboard."

"I was well on the way to individuality by then. Ensign Kim is not." She paused. "Ensign Kim was not a typical drone. He will not react like I did. On some level, he misses the Collective. I fear he will try to re-create it if he is in the company of other former Borg."

"You did that yourself," Tom pointed out, remembering when Seven had insisted on calling Harry "Two of Ten."

"That was different. It was for the sake of efficiency. Ensign Kim...has an emotional connection to the Collective."

Tom mulled that over. "Is there any advice you can give me?" he asked.

"You were emotionally attached to Ensign Kim."

"He's my best friend!"

"He _was_ your best friend. You must accept that he may never again be the person you remember."

"I'm not giving up on him, Seven."

"I am not suggesting that you do. But any progress will take time, and he cannot return to being the Ensign Kim he was before he was assimilated. Any more than I can be the Annika Hansen I was."

"Thanks, Seven." Tom left. She couldn't be right, he told himself. She had been just six years old when she was assimilated. Of course she couldn't return to being the person she was. But Harry had been an adult. Somewhere, underneath the Borg reprogramming, the Harry Tom had known was still there. He was sure of it.

* * *

"Come on," Tom coaxed, leading Harry into the airponics bay. Harry looked around curiously, no recognition on his face. 

Maybe they should have gone to the holodeck instead. Tom had gotten out of the habit of using the holodeck since Harry had been lost. Too many memories, once his long-time sidekick was gone. He mostly gave his holodeck time to B'Elanna, or traded it for replicator rations. But now Harry was back... 

No, the airponics bay was a good choice, Tom decided. The sheer life of its bright greenery was about as different from the dark, sterile environment the Borg preferred as he could think of. Sure, he could have programmed a garden or something, but somehow, even the best holoprogram didn't quite measure up. 

Tom went past Neelix's kitchen garden, near the door, toward the back, where Kes' flowers bloomed. Harry trailed obediently after him. The captain liked having real fresh flowers to decorate her quarters and her ready room, so they had maintained the flower garden even after Kes left. There was always something blooming there. 

It was the smell, Tom decided. That's why holoprograms fell short. The computer-generated artificial scents couldn't match reality. The warm dampness of fertile earth, the freshness of leaves, the rich sweetness of flowers. The smell of life.

"These are nutritional supplements?" Harry asked. The expression on his face was classic Harry, left brow quirked in puzzlement. But the Harry Tom had known would never have needed to ask such a question.

"Not these," Tom said. "We do have food crops here, but these flowers are purely decorative. We grow them for their beauty, and their scent." He bent to sniff at a pink, rose-like bloom. 

Harry imitated him, sniffing an orange flower. He didn't seem to like it, grimacing. 

"How does it smell?" Tom asked. 

Harry considered. "Tickly," he said, then sneezed. He turned an almost comically surprised gaze on Tom. 

"You okay?" Tom asked. 

"I..." Harry broke off, and sneezed again. He put his hands over his mouth, rather belatedly. Suddenly, he turned and ran away.

Tom stared after him for a moment, then followed, finding him crouched down behind a bank of equipment, as if he were trying to hide. "Harry, what are you doing?" 

He looked up, his expression bewildered and a bit alarmed. "I'm malfunctioning."

"No, you aren't," Tom said, trying not to laugh. "You're just sneezing." 

"I'm not defective?" Harry asked.

"No more than the rest of us," Tom said. "It's a normal human reflex. The Doctor will be pleased." He pulled Harry up and out of his hiding place.

"I don't like it. It's messy and uncomfortable."

"That is...a good description of the human condition," Tom conceded. "Sometimes, anyway." He resumed walking among the flowers. Harry followed, staying as far away from the plants as he could in the cramped cargo bay.

"They're not going to bite you," Tom said. "You never had any allergies. Probably just not used to such strong scents. Here, try this one." He pointed to a purple flower that he knew had a very mild odor. 

Harry eyed it suspiciously.

"Go on," Tom said. 

Harry leaned over and took a cautious sniff. 

"Well?" Tom asked. 

Harry blinked, then sniffed the blossom again. "My mother—"

"What about your mother?" Tom asked, encouraged.

"My mother smelled like this."

"You remember your mother?" 

"I knew she was leaving the house when she smelled like this," Harry said, his voice distant. "It...distressed me. I...didn't want to be an individual."

Harry's mother must have put on perfume when she went out, Tom realized. "That's normal for kids," he said. "You grew up and learned to separate from your parents. We all do." Though, Tom thought, 70,000 light-years of separation was more than any of them had signed up for.

It was getting to be lunch time. Harry had recently been cleared for normal food. Tom decided they would have lunch in his quarters. Harry wasn't quite ready for the Mess Hall or Neelix's cooking yet.

Comfort food, that's what was needed. He ordered small portions of a variety of different foods. He knew better than to let Harry order for himself. He'd order a nutritional shake, or something similarly un-comforting.

The door chime sounded briefly, then the door opened and B'Elanna entered. "Hi," Tom said. "Join us for lunch?"

She stopped beside the table. "I can't. I have to be in Engineering. Just wanted to get a padd I left here last night." She looked down at the food spread over the table. "Having a party?"

"Just seeing if there's anything Harry likes," Tom said. "Doctor's orders."

"All foods you like," she noted. "Let me guess. Anything he doesn't like, you're going to eat yourself."

"Well, I hate for anything to go to waste." Tom grinned. "Besides, we have the same tastes."

"No, you don't," B'Elanna said. She pointed to a small cup of mayonnaise on a plate of french fries. "Harry likes french fries with ketchup, like a normal person. You're the one who likes mayonnaise."

"That's how they served them at Sandrine's," Tom said. "Harry always ordered mayo with his french fries."

"Because he knew you were going to eat most of them off his plate. He ordered the mayo for you."

"I didn't eat Harry's french fries," Tom protested. Well, maybe a few. Now and then. He turned to Harry. "Do you like mayo or ketchup with your french fries?"

"I don't know," Harry answered. 

"It's ketchup," B'Elanna said. She found her padd and left.

Tom turned back to Harry. "Go on, eat."

"I don't need this many nutrients," Harry said. 

"You don't have to eat it all," Tom said. "Just taste it. See if it prompts any more memories."

Harry looked at the array of food. He seemed overwhelmed. "I don't need nourishment at this time."

Maybe Tom should have started smaller. "Just try it." He pushed a bowl of chicken soup toward him. 

Harry picked up a spoon and began eating his soup. Funny how he retained those skills. Though if he was intended to be a covert operative, then he would need to do things like use utensils.

Tom took a sip from a bowl of tomato soup, and yelped. He liked his soup hot, but this was really, really hot. The replicator must need adjustment.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. He dipped his spoon in Harry's bowl to try the chicken soup. It was just as hot. He pulled the bowl away from Harry. "How are you eating this? It's way too hot."

Harry looked up, and Tom saw his lips were an angry red. "Jeez, Harry. You have to make sure the food isn't too hot before you eat it." He got up to get his medical kit. It was in the sleeping area — where it was most commonly used, for healing the sex injuries he and B'Elanna tended to inflict on each other. 

The medical tricorder showed that Harry's mouth and throat were scalded. "You have to pay more attention," Tom said, exasperated. He got out the regenerator. "How could you not notice?"

"The sensation was unpleasant but a lot of human sensations are," Harry said. 

Tom shook his head. He'd have to have B'Elanna fix his replicator. And test the temperature of Harry's food before giving it to him. 


	4. Chapter 4

_Voyager_ had a regular rotation for away missions; Tom's turn was coming up. He would be away for a week or two, maybe more, depending on how it went, scanning star systems for useful minerals. In the old days, there was a good chance he and Harry would be assigned to away missions together, but Harry wasn't fit for that now. Yet, Tom told himself. He would be one day. In the meantime, he was stuck with Ensign Bronowski.

B'Elanna was still on gamma shift, or he'd spend the evening before the mission with her. As it was, he decided to spend it with Harry. He replicated a couple of beers and some pork rinds, and settled down to watch some old movies. Harry was one of the few people on board who liked 20th century movies as much as Tom did. Or had been. He didn't seem to get it now, but he obediently sat beside Tom on the couch, drinking his beer and watching _Attack of the 50 Foot Woman_. He didn't care for pork rinds, making a face at their hard, dry texture. Oh, well. More for Tom.

"I'm going on an away mission tomorrow," Tom said. He was rubbing Harry's back, as he'd gotten in the habit of doing. The Doctor thought it would help, to get Harry accustomed to human touch. Tom could feel Harry tense at the news. 

"You'll be all right," Tom told him. "Just the follow the schedule I made for you. And make sure you're dressed if you leave your quarters."

Harry didn't appear to be reassured. He was pale and sweating, and looked generally unhappy.

"Harry, you okay? You're looking kinda green." 

Harry didn't answer, but he looked miserable. Tom had enough experience to know what was coming. "Come on, let's get you to the bathroom. I think you're about to upchuck." Usually people didn't react this way to synthehol, but he remembered Seven had gotten very drunk off just a sip or two. Borg couldn't handle their liquor. 

"You're going to be okay," Tom said, pushing Harry to stand over the commode. "Stay here." He went to go get his med kit.

Harry was retching when he got back, holding his hands over his mouth. "Don't try to hold it in," Tom told him. "You'll choke."

Harry bent over the commode and vomited.

Tom waited until it was over, then pressed a hypo against Harry's neck. "That should settle your stomach," he said.

"I wasted the nutrients you gave me," Harry said, sounding bereft.

"It's all right," Tom said, rubbing his back again. "Resources are tight, but not that tight. And it's not like synthehol is all that nutritious anyway. We drink it for fun."

"It's not fun. It's messy and uncomfortable," Harry said. 

"You're just not ready for it yet. Come on, let's get you to bed."

* * *

It was awhile before Tom saw Harry again. He had to leave early the next morning on his away mission. He didn't want to wake Harry, especially after the rough night he'd had, and he was planning on having an early breakfast with B'Elanna. He thought about asking her to keep an eye on Harry while he was gone, but given her distrust, decided it was better for all concerned if she kept avoiding him for now.

The mission ended up on the long side — 18 days — and B'Elanna was suitably delighted to see both the mineral reports he returned with, and Tom himself. It wasn't until the next morning that Tom realized Harry hadn't come to see him. Tom had the day off, and decided to go see what Harry was up to. 

The computer said Harry was in his quarters. But when Tom signaled at the connecting door, there was no answer. Tom hesitated, then tried the door. It was unlocked. "Harry?" 

There was no sign of him. Not in the sleeping area, not in the bathroom. That left...the closet. 

At first Tom thought the closet was empty, too, but then saw Harry, way in the back, nearly hidden behind the neat row of hanging uniforms that Harry never wore. "Harry?"

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "Tom...?" 

"Who else?" Tom said.

"You're back!" Harry moved as if to get up and approach, but aborted the move, remaining sitting on the floor. 

"Of course I'm back," Tom said. "I've always come back from away missions before, haven't I? Even that time you thought I was leaving for good."

Harry clearly didn't remember that. "Drones that are transferred do not return," he said. "I didn't think I would see you again."

Tom hadn't realized Harry didn't understand that away missions were temporary. He felt bad for not explaining it. He should have known. "Well, there are no other ships to be transferred to, here. Not for us, anyway. I promise, I'll always come back." Tom hoped. Given the dangers of the Delta Quadrant, that wasn't a promise he should really make, but he did, anyway. It seemed to reassure Harry.

"I'm pleased you returned, Tom." 

"What are you doing in here, anyway?" Tom pushed the clothing out of the way. Harry looked up at him. His face was flushed, and his eyes were glazed and fever-bright. 

"I think I'm malfunctioning," Harry said. 

Tom knelt before him, touching his forehead. Harry jerked away, as if he expected a blow. 

"Harry, it's all right. You have a fever. Let's take you down to sickbay. The Doctor will take care of you."

"Will...will he deactivate me?"

"What? No, Harry, of course not. We don't deactivate people." He tried to put it in a way Harry would understand. "The Doctor repairs people, he doesn't deactivate them."

"What if they're too damaged to be repaired?"

"That sometimes happens," Tom conceded. "In that case, he'll do his best to make them comfortable. And that's not something you have to worry about. You feel like crap, but you're not going to die. Come on." 

* * *

"Just first year fever," the Doctor pronounced. 

"Again?" Tom asked. He remembered Harry going through this shortly after they'd met. "First year fever" was the term used for a variety of minor contagious illnesses that tended to be suffered by those new to spaceflight. Exposed to unfamiliar pathogens from multiple worlds, they were prone to minor illnesses until their immune systems adjusted.

"Interesting," the Doctor said. "Could be a fluke, could be the Borg did something to him that affected his immune system. I'll take a blood sample, and see if he needs any vaccines re-administered." He injected something into Harry's neck. "There, that should help you feel better," he said.

"Thank you," Harry said, surprising Tom. He'd been trying to remind Harry about the social graces, with limited success so far. 

"You're very welcome, Mr. Kim." The Doctor ran his scanner over Harry. "Fever's going down already. You'll be fine."

"Come on," Tom said. "Let's get you something to eat. Bet you haven't eaten all day."

Tom had realized by now that giving Harry too much choice was a mistake. He was easily overwhelmed by too many options. So he replicated a salad, a sandwich with potato chips, and a dish of fudge ripple pudding for them to share. 

It was delicious, but Harry wasn't eating. "Come on, Harry, you need to eat." 

"You can have my portion. I'm not hungry."

"Yes, you are, you just don't realize it." He could order Harry to eat, but that wouldn't encourage him to enjoy food. He remembered how he used to teach puppies to eat solid food. Picking up the fudge ripple pudding, he scooped some on his finger, and smeared it over Harry's mouth.

Harry pulled back, making a face. But he automatically licked his lips, tasting the pudding.

"How is it?" Tom asked.

"Messy and uncomfortable," Harry replied. But he kept licking his lips, and when Tom handed him the dish of pudding and a spoon, he ate it.

* * *

The next morning, Tom told B'Elanna what happened. "He was hiding in the closet, afraid he was going to be deactivated," he said. He took a bite of his oatmeal. Well, it was sort of like oatmeal. If oatmeal were bright blue. 

She frowned. She'd passed on the blue oatmeal, and was eating replicated banana pancakes. "Are you sure he's not some kind of biological weapon or something?"

"I took him down to sick bay. The Doc checked him over. It's just first year fever. B'Elanna, he hasn't done anything to harm _Voyager_ or her crew. Give him a break. He used to be one of your closest friends."

"He's not like the Harry we used to know," B'Elanna said, stabbing a slice of banana. "Harry wouldn't be hiding in fear. He wasn't a coward."

"The Doctor thinks the Borg programmed him for self-preservation. Because he was meant to be a covert operative."

"Sneaky," B'Elanna translated. "Harry wasn't sneaky."


	5. Chapter 5

Tom felt pleasantly tired, his muscles aching slightly from spending a couple of hours skiing on the holodeck. He entered Harry's quarters, Harry following behind him. 

Skiing had been a good choice. Harry had not recalled anything about it, but his body remembered. Once they were flying downhill, muscle memory took over. Harry was an excellent skier, as he had been before.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Tom asked, shedding his ski jacket and boots.

"A pleasant activity overall. It would have been more so if the temperature weren't so low."

Tom grinned. In the old days, Harry would have insisted on warmer temperatures. On the holodeck, there was no reason snow had to be cold. But to Tom, skiing just wasn't the same if it wasn't cold. 

What other sensual experiences should he try on Harry? A hot shower, maybe. Or better yet... "Harry, what you need is a bath."

Harry looked down at himself. "You find my hygiene inadequate?" he asked. 

"It's not about hygiene," Tom said. "You must have a million liters of hot water rations after being away so long, and you're not using them."

"I didn't accumulate replicator rations or hot water rations while I was part of the Collective. I was assumed dead, and my account was deleted."

"You should demand those rations be added to your account retroactively. The captain should consider it hazard pay." Harry had been assimilated in the line of duty, after all. 

"I don't need any more rations," Harry said. "I don't use them."

"You should use them," Tom said. "Come on, you're taking a bath. Nothing like it to warm you up and soothe tired muscles after an afternoon on the slopes."

"Sonic showers are more efficient."

"You sound like B'Elanna." She insisted sonic showers were better, and that Klingons didn't take baths. "It's not about efficiency, it's about pleasure," Tom said. "Come on." 

He started the water. "In you go. No, take off your clothing first. All of it." He left briefly, to find the bath beads Jenny Delaney had given him at a Prixin gift exchange once. He hadn't used them for years, since getting together with B'Elanna. Hopefully they were still good. 

It seemed they were. When he threw one into the tub, the water immediately turned a violet color, the scent of lavender filled the air, and mounds of bubbles began forming. Harry looked vaguely alarmed. "It's all right, Harry. It's supposed to do that."

Harry used to love swimming. He'd aced the swim test at the Academy, and was one of the few people on board _Voyager_ who swam as well as Tom did. 

But he seemed uncertain, even a bit anxious at the prospect of sitting in a tub of water. Instead of relaxing, he looked tense and uncomfortable. 

"You won't drown," Tom said. "It's not deep enough."

Harry shivered, not answering. Tom dipped a hand in the water. It was cold. "Jeez, Har, you're supposed to adjust the temperature so it's comfortable." He adjusted the tap so the water falling into the tub was as hot as it would go. Then he worried Harry would burn himself, or let the water get too hot. He hesitated, then stripped off his own clothing and joined Harry in the tub, which was plenty large enough for them both. 

The water was soon soothingly warm, and Harry stopped shivering. He still looked stiff and uneasy. "Relax," Tom said. He rubbed Harry's back, and slowly, the tension eased. 

"There, isn't this better than a sonic shower?" Tom asked. He moved his hand to the small of Harry's back, so he could lean back against the edge of the tub.

"It is...pleasant," Harry said, languid and almost sleepy. 

"Told you," Tom said. He continued rubbing Harry's back. The look on Harry's face was downright blissful. It made Tom smile. 

But it wouldn't do to let him fall asleep in the tub. "Come on, it's time to get out. You'll turn into a prune." He stood up, and pulled Harry to his feet.

To find that Harry had an impressive erection. Oops. Tom really should have kept his hand on the upper part of Harry's back.

Harry looked down at himself, puzzled. "I'm malfunctioning," he said. 

"No, you're not," Tom said. He hadn't meant to arouse Harry this way, and now felt bad to leave him like this. "Harry...this is a normal part of being a human male."

"Is it permanent?" Harry asked.

"No, no," Tom said. "And you should try not to let it happen in public. It's...not polite."

"How do I reverse it?" 

"It will go down on its own eventually. Or you could...help things along."

"How?"

"I'll show you." Tom climbed out of the tub, helped Harry out, and handed him a towel. Tom dried himself quickly, and though Harry tried to imitate him, he clearly didn't remember how to properly use a towel. 

"Let me." Tom took over, rubbing the towel briskly over Harry's damp skin. He hesitated, then dried Harry's groin area, too. Harry thrust against the towel, on pure instinct. 

Tom pulled away. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground here. Harry was beautiful, fit and slender, skin softly flushed from the heat of the bath, and oh, so enticing.

"It's not going down," Harry said.

_I'll just explain it to him,_ Tom thought. That would be okay, right? 

He guided Harry out into the bedroom, and sat him on the edge of the bed. He sat beside him. "Stroke it," he instructed.

Harry tentatively touched himself. It was a motion more suited to petting a kitten than jerking off. 

"Not like that. Like this." Tom took Harry's hand and guided it around Harry's erection, stroking slowly.

Harry gasped, and Tom could feel his pulse speeding up. Soon Harry was breathing hard and trembling, and Tom let go, expecting Harry to take over.

He didn't. He paused, squeezing himself for a long moment, then pulled his hand away. 

"What's wrong?" Tom asked. 

"It's leaking," Harry said, eyeing the clear, sticky liquid on his fingers. "Is it a malfunction?"

"No, it's normal," Tom said. "Come on, you probably figured this out when you were twelve."

"It's going to be messy and uncomfortable, isn't it?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Tom said, grinning. "But it's worth it." Harry did not seem convinced.

Tom decided he had better take over. He began stroking Harry's cock, faster and faster. Just to show him how it was done.

Harry groaned, thrashing a little. Until...

"Stop!"

Tom obeyed. "What's the matter, Har?"

Harry was panting and shaking. "Something's wrong. It feels like I'm going to break, or explode."

"That's how it's supposed to feel," Tom said, amused. 

Harry's breathing was slowing a little. "It was very uncomfortable, but...stopping is even more uncomfortable." 

"Are you saying you want me to continue?" Tom asked.

Harry seemed uncertain, but eventually nodded.

"Okay," Tom whispered. 

Harry, Tom decided, needed to come as quickly as possible this first time. "Trust me, Harry. And trust your body. Just...let go." Harry nodded, steeling himself as if for something unpleasant. 

Tom knelt in front of Harry, and took the rigid, twitching cock into his mouth. Harry gave a soft cry, bucking involuntarily. Tom sucked gently at first, then strongly. When he ran his tongue around the head, Harry groaned and shuddered, coming hard. Maybe for the first time since he'd left _Voyager_ , judging from how thick and plentiful the ejaculate was. Tom swallowed it eagerly. 

Harry fell back on the bed, panting and still quivering a little. He opened his eyes, looking at Tom with astonishment. 

"Not so bad, was it?" Tom said, stretching out alongside Harry.

Harry threw his arms around Tom, clinging to him. "That was...that was..."

Harry couldn't seem to find words.

"Wonderful? Mind-blowing? An otherworldly experience?" Tom suggested.

"Unexpected and very pleasurable," Harry finally decided. "Do it again." He was rubbing his erection against Tom's hip, already hard again.

"Harry, there's some rules you need to know about sex," Tom said. "First, it's private. You don't talk about it in public, let alone do it." He told himself that he was just teaching Harry things he needed to know, not trying to hide this from B'Elanna. Part of him knew this was a betrayal, no doubt about it, but most of him was too full of lust to listen to that part. He was aching with arousal. 

"Understood," Harry said. 

"Second...you need to be considerate of your partner. Their pleasure is at least as important as your own." Tom put his hand along Harry's flushed face, and ran a thumb over his full lips. Harry immediately took the digit into his mouth, sucking and licking at it. The offer was clear in his eyes.

It went straight to Tom's cock. He didn't think he could get any harder, but that look proved him wrong. He moaned softly. He was tempted, so tempted. But something stopped him. He didn't want to push Harry too much. And...part of him felt like it wouldn't be cheating, not really, if what he did with Harry was different than what he did with B'Elanna. "Stay here," Tom said. He gave Harry a quick kiss, then got up and went to the replicator. "Personal lubricant #8, 100 ml, warmed."

Harry clearly did not understand what the lubricant was for. Though he liked the feeling of Tom's fingers spreading it on him. He began pumping eagerly into Tom's grasp. "Stop that," Tom chided. 

Harry nodded. He was shivering and breathing heavily, but managed to hold still while Tom finished covering him with lube. Tom then applied the lubricant to himself. When he was ready, he propped himself on a pillow, supine. He wanted to see Harry's face.

He pulled his knees up. "Go on, put it in." 

Harry looked down his hard, well-lubed cock, then at Tom. "Are you sure? That orifice didn't evolve for this purpose."

"Neither did my mouth, and you liked that," Tom pointed out.

Harry couldn't deny it. His eyes darkened with arousal, and Tom saw his cock jerk with excitement. "Slowly," Tom reminded him. "Don't climax yet." 

Harry took a deep breath, and after only a little fumbling, tentatively pushed himself in. It felt wonderful. Tom had almost forgotten how wonderful. He wrapped his legs around Harry, pulling him close. 

Harry began thrusting, slowly at first, then faster, deeper. Tom moaned, pleasure gathering in his gut, coiling tighter and tighter, growing stronger with each thrust.

"Tom," Harry said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"What?" Tom said. 

"The stimulation...is too...intense." He whimpered softly. "I can't hold it back any more."

Good timing, because Tom couldn't hold back much longer, either, and knowing Harry was so close didn't help. Tom gripped his own cock and began stroking it, fast and hard. The pleasure quickly grew until he couldn't contain it, and it exploded out of him in pulses of ecstasy. Harry stared, wide-eyed, at Tom's spurting cock, then his eyes shut. He cried out softly, hips bucking as he came. 

When Tom could move again, he pulled Harry into his arms. 

"I'm sorry," Harry said, his eyes fluttering open. 

"For what?"

"You told me not to climax. I was unable to comply."

Tom laughed, dropping a kiss on Harry's damp forehead. "Don't worry."

"I won't be put in the brig for disobedience?"

_What?_ "No, Harry, of course not." Tom suddenly wondered if Harry had truly wanted this, or if he thought it was an order. No, he told himself. He wanted it. He asked for more. "You did fine."

"I did it right?" Harry asked.

"It was perfect," Tom said. 

Reassured, Harry snuggled against him, and was soon asleep. Tom held him tenderly, and thought again about how much he had missed him. Though they'd never crossed this particular barrier before. They'd gotten close once or twice, but somehow it had never happened. Tom knew he'd probably just made a mess of his life, and maybe Harry's, too, but for now, he was just going to enjoy the afterglow. He drifted off to sleep. 


	6. Chapter 6

Tom woke a few hours later. Something was wrong. A vague ache in his gut turned into a stabbing pain. He groaned, then yelled as the pain turned to agony. 

Harry stirred beside him. "Tom? Tom, what's wrong? Are you malfunctioning?"

Tom tried to answer, but couldn't get the words out. His body was spasming with the pain. Harry leaped off the bed. Tom tried to call to him, afraid he was running away in terror. He didn't want to be left alone. But no, Harry wasn't fleeing. He had retrieved Tom's combadge from his clothing on the floor. "Harry Kim to Emergency Medical Hologram. Medical emergency. Beam Lt. Paris to Sickbay." He pressed the combadge into Tom's hand. Harry's eyes, full of fear and confusion, were the last thing Tom saw as the transporter took him. 

He materialized in sickbay, in the surgical unit. "What happened?" the Doctor demanded. Tom tried to answer, but could only gasp in agony.

"EMH to Ensign Kim. What happened?"

"I don't know," Harry's voice replied.

"Report to sickbay immediately," the Doctor ordered. 

"I am putting on clothing." He paused. "Is this an emergency? Tom said it's okay not to wear clothes if it's an emergency."

"Get dressed, then come down here as quickly as you can." He turned back to Tom. "If these readings are correct, you are being assimilated. Though by biological, not mechanical, nanoprobes."

A hypo hissed against neck, and the pain eased. Tom drew in a shuddering breath, and but still couldn't form any words.

The sickbay doors slid open, and Harry ran through them. He was disheveled, but dressed. He seemed uncertain about whether he'd done the right thing. "Tom said if someone is malfunctioning they should go to sickbay," he said, looking anxiously between Tom and the Doctor. "Can you repair him?"

"That remains to be seen," the Doctor said. Great bedside manner as always. 

"Are you going to deactivate him?" Harry asked.

"What? Of course not," the Doctor said, a bit shocked. "This isn't a Borg vessel. We don't deactivate anyone. Now, tell me what happened."

"I'm not sure," Harry said. "I woke up and he was shaking and making sounds of distress."

"Woke up...were you sleeping together, Mr. Kim?"

Harry hesitated. "Tom said it's not polite to talk about it." 

"Yes," Tom broke in, finally finding his voice. "We had sex."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but for once didn't make a sarcastic comment. His response was strictly professional. "What activities did you engage in?"

"Kissing...fondling...oral sex...anal sex," Tom said, doing his best to avoid the cruder terms. 

"Really, Mr. Paris," the Doctor said. "Technically, I can't require you to get permission, since Mr. Kim is human, but one would think common sense would tell you to check it out with your doctor first."

"I didn't intend to do it," Tom said. "It just happened." He tried not see the stricken look on Harry's face.

"We'll discuss it later, Mr. Paris. Mr. Kim, please lie down and let me examine you."

* * *

Tom lay on a biobed, miserable. Physically, he felt better. The Doctor had managed to stop the assimilation process, and Tom was no longer in pain. But there was something really wrong. He didn't hear the voices of billions of other Borg, as Seven had sometimes described. But he felt Harry's thoughts and emotions. Somehow, they had become neurally linked. 

_I'm sorry_. Harry was distraught. Tom was pretty upset himself, and the storm of Harry's emotions didn't help. They fed on each other, creating a feedback loop that threatened to overwhelm them both.

"Stop it," the Doctor's voice said sharply. "Both of you. Get some control over yourselves. You're upsetting each other."

They whirled together in an emotional maelstrom. Tom tried to pull himself out of it, and felt Harry trying to do the same.

"I mean it," the Doctor said. "I'll have to sedate one or both of you if you don't get some control."

Tom found he did have some control over the neural link. He managed to pull back, calm down a bit. 

Harry drew a deep breath. "I don't know how this happened. I didn't mean to do it," he said brokenly.

"Interesting," the Doctor said, looking at his medical tricorder. The source of the nanoprobes is your semen, Mr. Kim." 

"What??"

It was B'Elanna's voice. She had come in without any of them noticing. 

Tom shut his eyes, wondering if B'Elanna would kill him, Harry, or both of them. 

" _Semen_?!"

"Ms. Torres, medical confidentiality—" the Doctor said.

"Did you rape Tom?" she demanded, glaring at Harry. 

Tom could feel Harry's bewilderment. Automatically, Harry reached out through their link, trying to get more understanding of what B'Elanna was asking. Tom realized that Harry hadn't remembered that Tom was with B'Elanna, or at least hadn't comprehended that it was supposed to be a monogamous relationship.

"Did you???"

Harry was always a quick study. He did his best to try and take the blame. "Yes," he answered. "Tom didn't want to. I made him. I'm sorry." He said it the way you would apologize for bumping into someone in the corridor.

Quick study Harry might be, but he'd always been a poor liar. He was even worse now that he was Borg. B'Elanna instantly saw through him.

"No, you didn't. Oh, my god." She turned and stalked out.

* * *

Tom was released from sickbay by the end of the day. He still had a few nanoprobes in his bloodstream, but they were inert, and not a danger to him or anyone else. The neural link with Harry remained, but there was no connection to the Collective. The Doctor was confident that he could prevent Harry from accidentally linking to anyone else.

Tom was fine, physically. In every other way, he was a wreck. In one night, the life he'd carefully built over the past six years was destroyed. The entire ship hated him, or would, once word got around. The captain hadn't said anything, but the disapproval was plain on her face when she debriefed him. 

And B'Elanna... He felt sick, remembering her expression as she realized she'd been betrayed. She would probably never forgive him, but he had to try. He replicated an extravagant bouquet of flowers, and headed down to her quarters. He knew flowers weren't nearly enough, but didn't know what else to do. Flowers had always been the way he apologized to her in the past. 

He signaled at her door, half-expecting her to refuse to answer. But the door slid open. He entered, and found her standing in the living area. He held out the flowers; she crossed her arms, not taking them. He put them down on the table.

There was so much hurt in her eyes. 

"B'Elanna, I'm sorry. So, so sorry." It was entirely inadequate, he knew. "You were right about me. I'm a pig. I let my hormones overcome my head." 

"I wish I could believe that."

"What?" Tom said, not understanding.

"I wish it was only hormones. But it's not, is it?"

Tom opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't think of anything to say.

"I knew it," B'Elanna said. "Get out."

He went.

* * *

Tom couldn't sleep. 

His own emotional turmoil was bad enough, but there was also Harry's. Tom tried not to notice, and he knew Harry was trying not to project his feelings through the neural link, but they bled through nonetheless, a thin thread of guilt and misery. Harry hadn't meant to do this. Tom knew he really had no one to blame but himself, but he was still too upset be rational about it. 

Finally, Harry's emotions faded. Either he'd fallen asleep, or he'd reached some kind of peace. That allowed Tom to fall asleep, too.

It was hunger that woke him the next morning. Tom was halfway through his second peanut butter sandwich and his third glass of milk before he realized he wasn't actually that hungry. Harry was. Harry hadn't eaten yesterday, and his hunger was leaking through. If Tom had paid attention, instead of trying to ignore the link, he'd have noticed sooner that it was Harry's hunger, not his own.

Annoyed, Tom raised a hand to his combadge, then changed his mind. He was still too angry to talk to Harry. Instead, he directed a mental curse at his one-time best friend. "Damn you, Harry. Eat something before I end up weighing 300 pounds." 

He sensed Harry's startlement, and realized Harry had picked up his angry thought. Of course. The link went both ways. _I'm sorry_ , Harry responded. _I'll do it now_. 

Tom assumed that meant Harry was going to eat something. Probably something bland and boring. He could feel Harry trying dampen the link between them. Not entirely successfully. The sense of hunger faded, but Harry's thoughts and emotions leaked through more strongly. He was thinking he would never eat again, with a mix of regret and relief.

What the... "Harry! What are you doing? Harry?" There was no answer, just a vague sense of resignation and determination. "Harry, wait for me. Don't do anything rash until I get there." Tom ran out the door, toward the turbolift. He didn't have to ask the computer where Harry was. He could tell, through the link. Harry was heading for deck 11 — one of the airlocks. He intended to end his life by throwing himself out an airlock. 

Tom pelted down the corridor. This area of _Voyager_ got little traffic. Tom had only been here once before. With Harry, he remembered. Harry, as a new ensign, had insisted on exploring every inch of _Voyager_ , and Tom had tagged along.

There, to his left. The short auxiliary corridor to the airlock. He ran down it, and skidded to a halt. "Harry, what are you...put on your clothes!"

Harry was naked. He looked at Tom. "No need." He bent to put his folded underwear on the neat pile of clothing on the floor. Then he began removing the last things he was wearing: his socks. 

Damn, but he was beautiful. Tom was annoyed to find himself noticing that. Most people looked ridiculous when taking off their socks. Harry didn't. "Get dressed. I told you, you can't walk around the ship buck naked."

"I won't be walking around the ship," Harry said. He put the socks, folded to perfect Starfleet specifications, on the pile, then turned toward the airlock door. 

Tom grabbed Harry and pulled him away. "You're just going to jump out the airlock, naked?"

"I won't need clothing," Harry pointed out. He glanced at the pile on the deck. "Please see that those are recycled." He tried to go around Tom, back to the airlock. 

Tom grabbed him again. "No. Put them back on." This close, Harry's physical sensations came through very strongly. He was cold, especially where his bare feet touched the metal deck. He was also hungry and very thirsty. "Come on, Harry. Get dressed, and we'll get something to eat, and talk this over. Even a condemned man gets a last meal." 

Harry frowned. "It's bothering you. That's unfortunate, but it would be a waste to consume nutrients the crew needs." Harry had chosen this path last night, and had decided that eating and drinking would be a waste, Tom realized suddenly. He wasn't sure if that was a Harry decision or a Borg decision. Maybe a little of both. 

Harry looked at Tom, concern shading their link. "My final sensations might be uncomfortable. It will take approximately three minutes for my life functions to cease, and it's likely I won't be able to maintain my barriers toward the end. You could ask the Doctor to sedate you..." Harry trailed off, clearly detecting Tom's vehement rejection of that idea. 

As if. If he made that request of the Doc, it would likely be Harry who ended up sedated in Sickbay. Which might not be a bad idea. Tom took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Harry," he finally managed. "Don't you think this is a little hasty?"

"No," Harry answered, without any hesitation. "I've given this very careful consideration. It's the obvious solution. Lt. Torres suggested that I beam myself out into space, but..."

"She what??" B'Elanna was furious, but surely she wouldn't... "Harry, she didn't mean it." He hoped.

"Probably not," Harry agreed. "She's highly intelligent and an excellent engineer. If she gave it any thought, she would come to the same conclusion that I have: that using an airlock is far more efficient than using the transporter." 

Tom just stared, speechless.

Harry explained further. "The energy needed to de-materialize and re-materialize 70 kilograms of mass is much greater than the energy needed to open and close the airlock doors, and replace the minimal amount of air that would be lost through using the airlock once." 

Tom still couldn't find a response. This was a Harry he knew well. He tended to get very absorbed in technical problems, looking at them from all angles, considering all the possibilities. It was more than a little unnerving to see him applying it to the problem of how best to commit suicide. No doubt he'd been thinking it over all night long. Tom realized Harry would have done it sooner, but he was still mulling it over, making sure it was the best way. It was Tom's complaint that had pushed Harry into taking action now. He didn't want to inconvenience anyone. 

Harry continued. "I considered using a phaser, but that would also take more energy than operating the airlock once. A fatal toxin would not take a lot of energy to replicate, but I would have to get around the safeties, and then you would have to dispose of my remains. My components would be recycled on a Borg vessel, but I know humans find that distasteful." Harry was a little sad about that. It was wasteful, and he wanted his "components" to help _Voyager_ , but understood the crew wouldn't accept that. "Since my body would be jettisoned anyway, the most efficient..."

"Harry!" Tom yelled, finally finding his voice. "You are not killing yourself. I won't let you."

Harry was doing his best to keep the link between them muted, but Tom could feel his puzzlement and determination. "It's the obvious solution," Harry said. "I'm defective. I have no value, either to the Borg or here on _Voyager_. Why waste further resources on me?"

"Because we're human, not Borg," Tom said. "We don't terminate people based on their usefulness." 

"Impractical," Harry said. He turned and palmed the airlock, opening the door. Then pulled out of Tom's grasp, stepping inside.

"No," Tom said. "Computer, lock the outer door of airlock 11-beta. Authorization Paris-delta-two." Tuvok had placed heavy security restrictions on Harry's computer access. He wouldn't be able to override the lock. 

Harry was unfazed. _The computer won't recognize my voice authorization, but there are other ways._ He touched the controls.

Tom shoved his way into the airlock with Harry as the door to the corridor closed. "Harry, I'm not letting you do this."

Harry seemed surprised, and genuinely distressed. "Tom, I can't open the outer door of the airlock with you here. It would deactivate you. _Voyager_ needs you." 

" _Voyager_ needs you, too," Tom said. "I'll stay here until I die of old age if necessary, but I'm not letting you waltz out this airlock."

"I should have done this while you were regen...sleeping," Harry said. "I didn't realize you would object."

"Didn't realize I would...Harry, of course I would object. Yes, I was angry, but that doesn't mean I want you to die."

"There is no other way to sever the neural link between us," Harry said. "Don't you want your individuality back?"

"No. Not at this cost."

Harry thought about that. "But there is no cost. The small amount of energy it takes to operate the airlock will be more than offset by—"

Tom grabbed Harry by the shoulders, intensifying the link. "Harry, I'm not talking about energy equations. I mean you. Your individual existence. You are unique, and precious. I would miss you. I did miss you, when I thought you were gone forever."

That seemed to have some effect. Harry had missed him, too. Missed all of them. Harry still didn't remember much detail, but he did remember that he'd had a place on _Voyager_. The Collective had provided some comfort, but it wasn't the same. Harry had been...lonely. In fact, under the rational Borg decision to discard what was not useful, there was a very human part of Harry, who foresaw years living on a ship where he was not trusted and did not fit in.

"We can work this out," Tom said. "Seven made herself a home here. If she can do it, you can."

"Seven didn't assimilate any of the crew," Harry pointed out.

"Harry...you didn't, either. Not really. And you didn't mean to do it. Look...if you decide you still want to jump out an airlock, there's plenty of time to do it later. Give us a chance. You have a place here. You always have."

"You will never be an individual as long as I live."

"It'll be okay. The Doc will figure out something. We'll build some kind of shielding. We can ask Tuvok to teach us to manage this link. We will adapt." 

He could feel Harry reaching out through link, wanting to know if Tom really meant it. "Yes, I mean it." He dropped all shields, letting Harry feel the full impact of his raw emotions. "Harry...I love you."

Harry gasped, overwhelmed. Tears filled his eyes. 

Tom pulled Harry into his arms. "Harry. Promise me you won't terminate your existence." Harry was still resistant. "For now?"

"Okay." Slowly, Harry relaxed into the embrace, and tentatively returned it. "For now." 


End file.
